


I'd Be Happy As Hell If You Stayed For Tea

by sandwastesinthevoidofmychest



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Blow Jobs, Greg Lestrade - Freeform, Greg is very good at making tea~, Kissing, M/M, Mycroft Holmes - Freeform, Neck Kissing, Not Beta Read, Oral Sex, all hail anthea, but yet here we are, fics that didn't mean to be smutty, greg and anthea being secret besties, mycroft blushes like there's no tomorrow, mycroft hasn't slept in like 48 hours, mystrade, sherlock is in hospital, these two idiots have been crushing over each other for years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 17:40:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8023072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandwastesinthevoidofmychest/pseuds/sandwastesinthevoidofmychest
Summary: A hopeful Greg asks a tired Mycroft home for tea, they are both hoping for more.





	I'd Be Happy As Hell If You Stayed For Tea

Mycroft felt like he hadn’t slept in a month; realistically, it had only probably been forty eight hours.

He was heading down a too-bright corridor when he heard his name being called behind him.

 

His heart did some sort of infantile summersault when he recognised the voice. Mycroft silently cursed himself before turning around to see Detective Lestrade approach him.

“Mycroft!” Greg looked almost relieved to see him and Mycroft wanted it to be because Greg had actually wanted to run into him. 

“Gregory, hello.” 

Greg seemed to give him a look of appraisal and frowned deeply, the worry lines on his face made him look at least ten years older than he was. Mycroft could feel a deep blush spread across his face, self conscious as to what it was that had made Greg frown. Mycroft wished, deep down, that he could be one of the reasons that made Greg’s eyes light up, with his impossibly kind smile that still made Mycroft melt whenever he was graced being present on such occasions. 

 

“When was the last time you slept?” 

Mycroft was taken off-guard by the question, but tried to shrug it off. “That is hardly an issue.”

“Having one of you in here is enough, I don’t want you hospitalised too.” Greg’s voice was quiet and his eyes dark, sad even. Mycroft couldn’t quite grasp the meaning behind it.

“A lack of sleep is nothing to worry about.” Mycroft tried to play it down, but in truth he had no idea how exhausted he must look. Greg watched him carefully for a few seconds, as if contemplating something.

 

Greg held out his hand in front of Mycroft, “Come with me?” 

Mycroft felt a jolt of something surge through his blood, and could feel the redness seep into his cheeks again. Greg raised a brow but didn’t speak.

Mycroft’s hand shook as he held it out to the older man and when Greg closed his hand over Mycroft’s, some of the tension immediately left Mycroft’s body. It was obvious that Greg had noticed this too and he was no longer frowning as deeply. “Sherlock overdosed just over a day and a half ago, so I’m guessing that you haven’t slept in roughly two days. Am I right?” Greg’s voice was soft and Mycroft wanted to be infinitively closer to the other man. They were touching, yes, this the most intimate so far, but there was still a space between them that Mycroft longed to close.

 

Mycroft nodded silently and Greg glanced around the empty corridor before looking back at Mycroft. “I live near here.” His tone was conversational, but Mycroft felt like there should have been a ‘but you already know that’ joke added on at the end and when he dared to look across at the other man, Greg was smiling as though he had just told a joke and Mycroft felt a little warmer inside already. “I was wondering if you would like to come over for some tea?”

“Tea?” 

Greg shrugged nonchalantly, “Usually coffee is my poison but I’ve been told I make excellent tea.”

Mycroft walked alongside Greg, still with hands joined and nodded once. “Tea, yes, tea would be good.”

“Great!” There it was! That smile, Mycroft held his breath. He wanted to keep an image in his mind, file it away because he had no idea when he would see Greg smile like that again, the way it spreadto his eyes and made him look younger.

 

Greg seemed to know the corridors of the hospital off by heart and even effortlessly found his car in the car park. He held open the door for Mycroft, who smiled and was delighted to get another one of those heart-warming smiles in return.

The drive was short and they passed it mainly in silence. An old rock station played in the background and Mycroft tried not to be obvious that he was watching Greg’s head move with the beat, his index finger dancing against the steering wheel. Greg was humming quietly to himself and Mycroft felt a warmth in his chest that took him completely off-guard. 

“I used to be in a band, y’know.” Greg said conversationally, a slight smile on his face, obviously aware that Mycroft had been watching him. 

Mycroft blushed and bit his lip. Greg was far more observant than Mycroft, or Sherlock for that matter, had ever given him credit for. “Did you sing, or play?”

“Lead vocals, would you ever have guessed?” Greg took a turn off that led them to a block of flats. Mycroft had never been here himself, but he knew about it from various surveillance reports.

Mycroft shrugged, “Possibly, I never recognised any signs of you playing an instrument. Genre?”

“Punk rock.” Greg smiled proudly when he saw Mycroft’s expression, “I was told I was a very handsome poster boy.” 

“You still are.” The words came out so suddenly that Mycroft didn’t have time to think about them and he felt like his face was on fire. Greg, who was unlocking the door to his apartment, snorted.

He touched Mycroft’s arm so gently that Mycroft barely felt it. “Welcome home.” 

 

Mycroft was momentarily taken off-guard by how homely and warm the small apartment looked. There was a large floor to ceiling bookshelf that was packed with various novels; Greg had called Mycroft away before he could see what Greg liked to read.

"I have it on good authority that your favourite biscuits are jammy dodgers so I got some in."

Mycroft gave Greg a confused look, "Sherlock wouldn't be able to name different types of biscuits, never mind tell you what are my favourite."

Greg snorted, "I definitely didn't ask Sherlock."

“Who then?” Mycroft watched Greg carefully, “and how did you know I’d come here?”

“A mixture of hope and optimism mainly.” 

Greg handed Mycroft a steaming mug of tea and gestured for him to follow to the sofa. 

Greg placed the plate of biscuits on the coffee table in front of them.

Mycroft felt a sudden rush of warmth when Greg sat close beside him, if Mycroft even moved to take a biscuit, he’d end up brushing against Greg and the thought thrilled him.

 

When Mycroft finally took a sip of tea and instantly sank back into the cushions, “Heavenly.”

Greg grinned with satisfaction. “One of my many talents.” He winked at Mycroft and by god, there it was again, although this time it wasn’t just warmth. Was Greg… _flirting_ with him?

Mycroft struggled to get his thoughts in order. 

Here was Gregory Lestrade, in the comfort of his own home, eyes bright, playful smile, first two buttons on his shirt open, and barely an inch of space between them. 

Oh fuck; Mycroft realised that what he was feeling was a surge of arousal and he couldn’t help glancing across at Greg. Greg was staring at him intently and Mycroft could feel his face flush scarlet. 

Greg seemed to sense Mycroft’s embarrassment and brushed past him to pick up a biscuit. He sat back and licked his lips before eating it, and it took everything Mycroft could do to stop himself from reaching out to pull Greg up against him. Instead, he tried to focus his attention on the biscuits.

 

“Will you have to work early in the morning?” Mycroft asked to break the heated silence that had fallen around them. Mundane talk might be the cure for his condition.

“I’ve actually taken a week’s leave.” Greg mumbled before taking a long gulp of coffee.

“I didn’t kno-“ Mycroft began before realising that he had basically admitted to watching Greg’s movements. 

Greg smirked in return, seeming to expect that reaction. “There is a reason why.”

Mycroft stared at him blankly.

“You are in dire need of a few free days yourself.”

Mycroft snorted, “Chances of that are extremely slim and verging on impossible. It still doesn’t tell me why you’re taking leave.”

“Because.” Greg took another sip of his coffee, his eyes sparkling with mischief, knowing he was drawing it out. Mycroft leaned closer towards him and Greg smiled even more. 

“Your impossible chance of getting time off has just been crushed and you have the next three days off, for definite, the rest of the week too assuming no wars occur.” 

 

Greg had never imagined that a Holmes could look so utterly confused and lost, it was wonderful.

“I don’t understand…how?”

Greg shrugged, “I have my ways.” There it was again, that wink and Mycroft could feel his heart skip.

“Also Anthea is a goddess that believes we both need a break. Especially you.” 

“Anthea?” Mycroft paused, still bewildered. “You know Anthea?”

“Indeed I do.” Greg grinned. “She’s wonderful. She’s going to take over for a few days, while you get a chance to relax.” 

Mycroft frowned, “I’m not sure I remember how to relax.” 

“I suppose I could help, I mean I’m free…”Greg mumbled wistfully. 

Mycroft bit his lip, their chests were practically touching now andhe could feel Greg’s breath ghost across his skin. Mycroft made eye contact with Greg and his breath hitched in his throat. Greg’s eyes were dark and watching him closely, but when he knew Mycroft was watching him he deliberately moved his eyes towards Mycroft’s lips and back to his eyes again.

Greg watched him, a question in his eyes. Mycroft nodded once and held his breath when Greg’s right hand trailed up Mycroft’s arm and his other brushed across Mycroft’s cheek and moved to cradle the back of his head.

 

Everything seemed to be happening agonisingly slowly to Mycroft, his heart was thumping in his chest, but he closed the tiny space between them, threaded his fingers through Greg’s hair and pulled him forward until their lips were touching.

They stayed like that, pressed together for seconds, but it seemed like minutes, before something broke in both of them. The kiss changed suddenly, now was not about being slow and gentle; it was with the intent of making up for all those years, for all of those heated silences, those glances that had passed between them, those wishful fantasies. This was now, and it was happening between them at last. 

Greg’s lips were soft as they moved against Mycroft’s, and it was almost overwhelming when Greg coaxed Mycroft’s mouth open and suddenly Mycroft could taste Greg and his thoughts were so scattered, but the one thing that made sense was Greg. 

Both Greg’s hands stayed in Mycroft’s hair when they broke apart for breath, foreheads resting against each other, and _fuck_ , there was that look across Greg’s face again and Mycroft wanted him, right there. He grasped the front of Greg’s shirt, and he saw Greg smirk before he started to kiss down Mycroft’s cheek and he stopped briefly at Mycroft’s neck, then began to suck at the skin there. Mycroft threw his head back, and he could feel the smile on Greg’s lips against his neck. 

 

Greg slowly trailed back up to Mycroft’s lips and Mycroft’s hands loosened against Greg’s chest and they watched each other, both flushed and aroused. Mycroft’s shaking fingers danced around Greg’s shirt buttons and he glanced at the other man, a question in his eyes. “May-“

“Please,” Greg breathed, “Do.”

Mycroft hastily unbuttoned Greg’s shirt and pushed it off his shoulders. Greg’s chest was rapidly rising and falling and when Mycroft kissed the pulse point on Greg’s neck, he could feel the older man shiver. Mycroft trailed his hand down Greg’s chest and pushed him back so that Greg was lying on the couch and he manoeuvred himself so that he was straddling Greg’s legs. Before he could make his next move, Greg pulled him down by his tie and began to kiss him again.

“Fucking finally.” Greg murmured in between kisses, hands in Mycroft’s hair to keep him close.

Mycroft hummed against his lips, tongues exploring each other’s mouths. 

 

Greg blindly tried to undo Mycroft’s tie, but gave up when he realised he was tightening it unintentionally. Instead, he ran his hands down Mycroft’s back and rested them on Mycroft’s arse, giving it a light squeeze that seemed to ignite something in Mycroft. He broke away from Greg’s lips and started down his neck, he sucked on the skin beneath Greg’s collarbone, making sure to leave a mark. Mycroft kissed his way down Greg’s stomach and paused when he reached Greg’s belt. Greg managed to lean on his elbows so that he was almost sitting upright, he licked his lips as he watched Mycroft. “Take off some of your clothes.” He whispered, but Mycroft smirked as he looked up at Greg, his face playful as he gently cupped Greg’s erection through his trousers.

“Fuck, Myc,” Greg moaned. 

“That’s the intention, Gregory.” Mycroft purred, smile widening when he saw what using Greg’s full name did to the other man. 

Mycroft made quick work of Greg’s belt and unzipped his jeans agonisingly slowly. “Myc, please.”

Mycroft pulled Greg’s boxers down and took in the sight of the other man’s nakedness, carefully filing the image away in his mind. He gave Greg’s cock an experimental stroke and Greg made a sound down in the back of his throat, which only encouraged Mycroft more. 

 

Mycroft held the base of Greg’s cock in one hand, and slowly slid Greg’s length into his mouth, wanting to laugh at the sound Greg made as he lost balance on his arms and ended up on his back again. Mycroft ran his tongue up the bottom of Greg’s length then lapped his tongue around the head of Greg’s cock. Mycroft dipped his head and took Greg deeply, taking advantage of his lack of a gag reflex. What he was doing seemed to be working, if the sounds Greg was making were any indication. They were a mixture of moans and profanities and when he felt Greg’s hands in his hair, pulling slightly, a flush of arousal went through Mycroft and he could feel his own cock strain against his trousers. 

He could taste the pre cum in his mouth and had to spread his hand across Greg’s lower abdomen to stop him from bucking his hips. He continued to bob his head up and down and Greg continued to make unholy noises. Mycroft’s cock was almost painfully hard and he was sure that he’d get off just by listening to Greg, and seeing what he could do to the other man that he had total control of. 

“Mycroft! Soon-“ Greg’s voice was uneven and Mycroft took Greg’s cock until it touched the back of his throat and he could feel Greg’s thighs shake against him. Greg came with a shout and Mycroft held his thighs still. When he stilled Greg took a deep breath and tried to get Mycroft’s attention, to bring him back up to his lips and Mycroft followed willingly. 

 

Greg’s breathing was ragged, but he kissed Mycroft deeply, tasting himself on Mycroft was jarring; something he could only ever have dreamed of. “That was…” Greg tried to say between kisses, “Amazing.” He freed himself from his trousers that were still caught at his ankles so he could move and overpower Mycroft. “Let me take care of you.” Greg said it so quietly and endearingly, that Mycroft would have missed it if he hadn’t been so alert at that moment.He sat back on his heels, his face slowly becoming scarlet. “No need…you were making such incredible noises, it took care of itself really.” Mycroft broke eye contact, embarrassed. “It’s been a long time and you…you are brilliant.” 

Greg took Mycroft’s face in his hands, his eyes gentle. “Stay?” 

“I don-“ 

Greg silenced Mycroft with a soft kiss. “Anthea made up a weekend bag for you. Stay with me?”

Mycroft nodded once quickly, not contemplating it for another minute, he wanted to so badly.

Greg threw him a heart-shattering smile and pulled him close, “Fantastic! Let’s shower and sleep, because god, do I want to finally see what’s under those suits, and you need sleep.” 

Mycroft let out a chuckle, “Sounds like a plan.”

“You are perfect and, god, you are staying.” Greg got to his feet and held out his hand to help Mycroft up. “I can’t bear to see you in that shirt and tie anymore, lets do something about that.” Greg purred, leading a grinning Mycroft in the direction of the bathroom. “Finally.” 

Mycroft made eye contact with Greg at that second, “Finally.” He agreed and started to untie his tie with the hand that wasn’t in Greg's. 

_Staying._

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Bon Iver's new song 33 "God", listen [here!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6C5sB6AqJkM)
> 
> Update on Rupert Graves lookalike bus driver; I started writing Mystrade smut after not travelling for weeks and then first time I had gotten the bus in ages, he was driving the return bus. Eye contact is difficult when you've been writing smut. 
> 
> I have a tumblr if anyone wants to talk! [Hello!](http://lostallsenseofcontrol.tumblr.com/)


End file.
